Chapter I: Part 1

IMPRESSIONS OF SPAIN.

IMPRESSIONS
OF SPAIN.

BY

ALBERT F. CALVERT, F.R.G.S.

AUTHOR OF

“_The Discovery of Australia_,” “_The Exploration of Australia_,”
“_My Fourth Tour in Western Australia_,”
“_The Political Value of our Colonies_,”
_etc._, _etc._

LONDON:

GEORGE PHILIP & SON, LIMITED, 32, FLEET STREET.

LIVERPOOL:

PHILIP, SON & NEPHEW, 45-51, SOUTH CASTLE STREET.

_All rights reserved._

1903.

TO

SEÑOR DON SEBASTIAN BARRIS.

MY DEAR BÁRRIS,

As the pleasure and instruction I have derived from my different visits to Spain have been contributed to so largely by your unfailing kindness and invaluable counsel, so the culminating pleasure of this modest attempt to set down my impressions of your fair country lies in the privilege of inscribing the result to you. In you I shall ever feel that I have a firm and wise friend and lenient critic, and I beg you to enhance the obligation of friendship by accepting this dedication with the assurance of my regard and esteem.

ALBERT F. CALVERT.

“ROYSTON,”

SWISS COTTAGE, N.W.

PREFACE.

There is a character in current drama who devoted his whole life to the writing of a book. He called it a “pamphlet,” because he had intended it to be a pamphlet when he started on his task, but in its completed state the work filled three mighty folio volumes. Although the present volume has not attained such gargantuan proportions, it is considerably longer than I had thought to make it. It is not put forward as an exhaustive or profound study of Spain and the Spaniards, but as a simple record of impressions of people I have met and places I have visited during a series of many journeyings in different parts of that greatly interesting and much misunderstood country. These impressions were meant, in the beginning, to form a small collection of sketches and appreciations; and, although the number has increased beyond the limits of my original intentions, the design and scope of the book have not been revised or amplified. The result of this desultory system of working is a string of disconnected chapters--the first fruits of fugitive note-book jottings collected over a period of several years--rather than a concentrated and comprehensive survey of the subject as a whole.

But the system was also fraught with an unforeseen technical difficulty, as I discovered when I came to arrange my illustrations. The photographs that I acquired--sometimes singly and sometimes in batches--during my frequent visits to Spain, increased out of all proportion to the “increasing purpose” of my manuscript, and in the end I was confronted with the alternative options of leaving out a great many of my most recent and best pictures of Granada and the Alhambra, or of publishing them _en masse_ at the back of the volume.

The fact that I am even now engaged in gathering material and making notes for a work upon the Alhambra, which I hope shortly to publish, tempted me to hold these surplus illustrations in reserve. But I have hopes that the fragmentary nature of my material, and, in many cases, lack of style and finish in its transcription, may be atoned for by the variety and charm of the pictorial side of the book; and, with this desideratum in my mind, I decided to reproduce the overflow pictures in the form of an appendix.

To the many friends in Spain who have assisted me in my work, with counsel, information, practical aid, and inexhaustible hospitality, and particularly to Messrs. HAUSER and MENET, Messrs. LAURENT and CO., and Señor GARZON, the photographic artists who have supplied me with pictures beyond those I took myself, and favoured me with permission to reproduce them, I wish to tender my sincere and grateful thanks.

It may be that my personal relations with the Spanish people have been more fortunate than that of some other authors, whose books on Spain I have seen; but in a somewhat wide experience of countries and men, I have never met their equals in courtesy and true consideration to the stranger within their gates. I have encountered all sorts and conditions of men in the sunny South, the black North, and the thriving East of the kingdom, and from each and every one I have received nothing but kindness and good-will. I have written enthusiastically in the following pages about the Spaniards, for in every Spaniard I have met I feel that I have a friend.

A. F. C.

AUTHORS’ CLUB,

LONDON, S.W.,

NOVEMBER, 1903.

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

ALFONSO XIII. _Frontispiece_

PORTRAITS AND PICTURES.

PAGE

THE FAMILY OF CHARLES V., BY GOYA 242

THE VELASQUEZ GALLERY IN THE MUSEUM, MADRID 243

THE DIVINE FAMILY, BY MURILLO 246

BARTOLOME ESTEBAN, BY MURILLO 247

THE DIVINE FAMILY, BY MURILLO 249

THE DIVINE SHEPHERD, BY MURILLO 250

A CONCEPTION, BY MURILLO 251

THE KING OF SPAIN--1886, 1891, 1892, 1893, 1895,
1896, 1898, 1901, 1902 255

THE KING AND HIS MOTHER 257

S. M. EL REY ALFONSO XIII. 259

S. A. INFANTA MARIA TERESA 262

S. A. LA PRINCESA DE ASTURIAS 263

S. A. R. EL INFANTE DON CARLOS 264

ANTONIO FUENTES 224

LUIS MAZZANTINI AND CUADRILLA 224

GUERRITA. _Bandillero_ 224

THE SURRENDER OF GRANADA BY BOABDIL TO FERDINAND AND
ISABELLA, 1492 Appendix

VIEWS.

_ALICANTE._

ELCHE (WOMEN WASHING) 1

ELCHE 5

THE ESPLANADE 83

ESPLANADE AND WHARF 84

THE “MARTYR’S PROMENADE” 85, 86

“ “ (HIGH ROAD) 87

VIEW OF ELCHE 88

ENTRANCE TO THE STATION, ELCHE 91

_MADRID._

IN OLD MADRID 10

ROYAL PALACE 11

A CORNER IN THE ROYAL PALACE 12

THE THRONE ROOM, ROYAL PALACE 13

THE RIVER MANZANARES 15

AVENUE OF SAN GERONIMO AND PARLIAMENT HOUSE 19

THE “PUERTA DEL SOL,” FROM THE HOTEL DE PARIS 23

THE BANK OF SPAIN 27

THE COUNSELLOR OF THE VILLAGE 31

AN ORANGE SELLER 31

A DANCER 31

FULL LIST OF LOTTERY RESULTS 31

SKETCHES IN SPAIN 35

A MILK STALL 39

THE BULL RING 41

_EL ESCORIAL._

ESCORIAL MONASTERY, THE EVANGELIST’S COURT 44

GENERAL VIEW OF THE MONASTERY 45

THE ESCORIAL LIBRARY 47

MASS BOOK OF PHILIP II., THE ESCORIAL LIBRARY 48

THE ROYAL PALACE, ARANJUEZ 49

_BARCELONA._

GENERAL VIEW 51

A NATIVE OF CATALONIA 53

THE CASCADE 55

SEÑOR BÁRRIS’S HOUSE 57

SNAPSHOT IN SEÑOR BÁRRIS’S GARDEN 59

“RAMBLA DE LAS FLORES” 61

THE COLON (COLUMBUS) PROMENADE 65

THE COLUMBUS COLUMN 67

PLAZA DEL REY 68

ARAGON STREET 69

LYRIC THEATRE 56

EXHIBITION HALL 56

PRINCIPAL THEATRE 56

THE PRIM MEMORIAL 106

_MONSERRAT._

THE MONASTERY 71

_TARRAGONA._

THE AQUEDUCT 73

GENERAL VIEW 74

_SAGUNTO._

THE ROMAN THEATRE 75

_TORTOSA._

GENERAL VIEW 76

_CASTELLON._

WINDING OF THE HIGH ROAD ON CUERVO MOUNTAIN 77

_VALENCIA._

ST. CATHERINE’S SQUARE AND TOWER 78

GENERAL VIEW 79

THE EXCHANGE 81

A VALENCIANA 82

TRINITY BRIDGE 84

GLORIETA FOUNTAIN 84

THE MEDITERRANEAN SHORE 84

BEACHING THE BOATS 84

VALENCIAN BEAUTIES 240

A TARTANA 92

_CARTHAGENA._

GENERAL VIEW 89

_MURCIA._

A NATIVE OF 92, 93

A NOON-TIME HALT 92

THE HARVEST CART 92

A CARTLOAD OF TINAJAS 92

_TOLEDO._

CHURCH OF SANTA MARIA DE LA BLANCA 95

THE VISAGRA GATE 96

THE DOOR OF THE SUN 97

THE CATHEDRAL 99

ST. MARTIN’S BRIDGE 101

CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, COURTYARD 102

THE CATHEDRAL, CENTRAL NAVE 102

“ EXTERIOR OF HIGH ALTAR 102

“ THE LION DOOR 102, 104

“ THE HIGH ALTAR 97

“ SEPULCHRE OF ALONSO DE CARRILLO 104

“ GENERAL VIEW OF THE CHOIR-STALLS 100

“ INTERIOR 100

CHURCH OF SAN JUAN DE LOS REYES, RETABLO 104

“ “ “ INTERIOR 104

ALCÁNTARA DOOR AND BRIDGE 98

“ GATE 98

FAÇADE OF SANTA CRUZ 98

THE CATHEDRAL 98

CONVENT OF SAN JUAN DE LA PENITENCIA Appendix

_CÓRDOVA._

BRIDGE AND CATHEDRAL 104

THE MOSQUE 106

CATHEDRAL, CHOIR STALLS 106

“ GENERAL INTERIOR VIEW 106

AT THE FOUNTAIN 162

AT THE SPRING 162

IN THE COURT OF ORANGES 140

THE MOSQUE, A CORNER IN Appendix

“ INTERIOR “

CATHEDRAL, TOWER “

_ANDALUSIA._

ANDALUSIAN GALLANTRY 160

_BURGOS._

THE CATHEDRAL, FROM THE CASTLE 109

_SEGOVIA._

A GENERAL VIEW 113

A NATIVE 114

_AVILA._

VIEW OF 115

_CIUDAD-REAL._

GENERAL VIEW 116

_CUENCA._

THE VALLEY OF THE JUCAR 117

VIEW FROM SAN JUAN HILL 119

VIEW OF CUENCA 120

_GRANADA._

VIEW FROM THE “BARRANCO DE LA ZORRA” (THE FOX’S HOLE) 125

THE WINE DOOR 127

ENTRANCE TO THE COURT OF LIONS 128

THE INFANTAS’ TOWER 131

EL GENERALIFFE 133

“ “ THE ACEQUIA COURT, FROM MAIN ENTRANCE 134

LA ALCAICERIA 135

VIEW OF ALBAYCIN 137

COURTYARD OF AN ARAB HOUSE 139

THE GENERALIFFE 2

THE LADIES’ TOWER, THE ALHAMBRA 15

THE GIPSY QUARTERS 15

A STREET IN GRANADA 14

ARAB SILK MARKET 14

SHOWING THE ALHAMBRA AND THE SIERRA NEVADA 128

THE SACRISTY OF THE CARTUJA CONVENT 120

THE COLUMBUS MEMORIAL 140

GROUP OF GYPSIES 140

TRANSEPT AND HIGH ALTAR, CATHEDRAL 122

_THE ALHAMBRA._

THE COURT OF LIONS 130, 132

HALL OF AMBASSADORS 132

THE FAVOURITE’S BALCONY 132

THE COURT OF LIONS, A LITTLE TEMPLE IN “

“ “ A PEEP INTO “

“ “ LITTLE EASTERN TEMPLE IN “

“ “ FOUNTAIN IN “

HALL OF THE COURT OF JUSTICE AND COURT OF LIONS “

INTERIOR OF THE MOSQUE “

THE CAPTIVE’S TOWER “

THE SULTAN’S BATH “

THE DRESSING ROOM “

HALL OF THE TWO SISTERS “

HALL OF THE COURT OF JUSTICE “

THE DOOR OF JUSTICE “

THE CAPTIVE AND CADID TOWERS “

WASHINGTON IRVING HOTEL “

ENTRANCES TO THE ALHAMBRA “

THE COURT OF MYRTLES 132 “

“ “ GALLERY IN “

PALACE OF CHARLES V. “

“ “ ROMAN COURT “

THE ALHAMBRA AND THE SIERRA NEVADA “

THE ROYAL CHAPEL, CATHEDRAL “

EL GENERALIFFE, THE ACEQUIA COURT “

“ “ CYPRUS COURT “

“ “ GALLERY IN THE ACEQUIA COURT “

“ “ A CORNER OF THE ACEQUIA COURT “

_SEVILLE._

GENERAL VIEW, FROM THE TOP OF THE “GIRALDA,” LOOKING EAST 143

DANCING BOYS, CATHEDRAL 145

THE TOWER OF THE GOLD 146

GIRLS’ COURT IN THE ALCÁZAR 148

CATHEDRAL 149

ENTRANCE TO THE ALCÁZAR 150

THE ALCÁZAR, AMBASSADOR’S HALL 151, 158

“ A DOORWAY IN 152

CIGAR MAKERS 154

A SEVILLIAN 155

THE “SEVILLANAS” DANCE 156

CATHEDRAL, EXTERIOR 146

“ FIFTEENTH CENTURY GRATING 152

THE ALCÁZAR, GARDENS 148, 150

“ SULTANA’S QUARTERS 158

“ INTERCOLUMNIATION, WHERE DON FADRIQUE WAS
ASSASSINATED 158

“ THE COURT OF DOLLS 152

SAN FERNANDO SQUARE 150

A SEVILLIAN PATIO 162

A STREET 152

GALLERY OF PILATE’S HOUSE 152

_CADIZ._

VIEW FROM THE TAVIRA TOWER 165

VIEW FROM SAN CARLOS BATTERY 168

_MÁLAGA._

VIEW FROM THE “FAROLA PROMENADE” 169

VIEW FROM THE “GIBRALFARO” 173

_RONDA._

THE GORGE 176

GENERAL VIEW, WITH THE MOORISH BRIDGE OF THE “TAGO DE RONDA” 177

_HENDAYE._

GENERAL VIEW 181

_IRUN._

GENERAL VIEW 182

_PASAJES._

VIEW OF THE TOWN 183

_GUIPÚZCOA._

PASAJES DE SAN JUAN 184

_SAN SEBASTIAN._

CONCHA PROMENADE 185

_BILBAO._

SUBURBS 186

GENERAL VIEW 187

VIZCAYA BRIDGE 189

OLD BILBAO 190

THE ARENAL PROMENADE 191

THE ORCONERO IRON ORE COMPANY’S WHARF IN LUCHANA 193

_GALICIA._

A NATIVE 195

NATIVES 196

VIEWS IN GALICIA 199

_PONTEVEDRA._

GENERAL VIEW OF REDONDELA 197

GENERAL VIEW 201

_CORUÑA._

GENERAL VIEW TAKEN FROM THE OLD TOWN 200

_VIGO._

VIEW FROM THE CASTLE 205

_GIJON._

THE WHARF 207

_SANTANDER._

THE PORT 208

GENERAL VIEW 209

_LEÓN._

THE CATHEDRAL 210

CLOISTER IN CATHEDRAL 211

THE CATHEDRAL CHOIR STALLS 211

VIEW TAKEN FROM THE CEMETERY 212

_SALAMANCA._

GENERAL VIEW 213

VIEW OF THE COLLEGE, FROM THE IRLANDESES 214

_ZARAGOZA._

“INDEPENDENCIA” PROMENADE 215

PILAR CHURCH 217

A FLEMISH DANCE 218

THE BOUQUET--THE DAWN OF ST. JOHN’S DAY 160

_NUEVALOS._

AT NUEVALOS 218

_THE CORONATION OF ALFONSO XIII., 1902._

THE KING’S CARRIAGE 264

ARRIVAL AT THE CONGRESS 264

PROCESSION OF THE CORONATION BULL-FIGHT 264

_LINARES._

GENERAL VIEW 340

_PONFERRADA._

VIEW OF THE CASTLE 340

_BULL-FIGHTING._

THE PROCESSION 221

ENTRANCE OF THE BULL 223

THE PICADOR 227

AT CLOSE QUARTERS 230

A TURN WITH HIS BACK TO THE BULL 233

FIXING THE BANDERILLAS 235

THE MATADOR 237

THE FINAL STROKE 239

ENTERTAINING THE BULL-FIGHTERS 160

BULL-FIGHTERS AT THE TAVERN 240

A PICADOR 240

MINING VIEWS.

_BILBAO._

THE UNION MINE 270

ORCONERA IRON ORE COMPANY 278

ORCONERA COMPANY’S WORKINGS 281

THE RAILWAY SYSTEM 283

TRANSPORT OF ORE, ARCOCHA 285

LOS ALTOS HORNOS DEL DISIERTO 287

_RIO TINTO._

TERMINUS OF THE MINE RAILWAY 271

THE CANAL SYSTEM 272

SAN DIONISIO SHAFT 306

MINES 288

THE LAGO CUTTING 289, 292

THE FRAMES 291

THE CUTTINGS 293

_HUELVA._

PORTION OF WORKS, AND SAN FERNANDO VILLAGE 276

CEMENTATION VATS 277

HEAD OF THE SAINTE-BARBE SHAFT 305

_ALMERIA._

THE PORT OF ALMERIA 294

WASHING FOR ALLUVIAL TIN 296

A TRENCH IN TIN ORE 299

_AGUILAS._

THE RAILWAY 321

THE CASTLE AND HARBOUR 324

_PÁRAMO._

THE OLD GOLD WORKINGS 303

GENERAL VIEW 334

ALLUVIAL GOLD WASHING 335

_ESCURIAL._

PORTION OF BUILDINGS 309

A CUTTING 310, 317

“DOLORES,” “JAIME,” AND MAIN SHAFT 311, 313

GALAPAGAR SMELTING WORKS 313

ENGINE HOUSE AND BLACKSMITH’S SHOP 315

SNAPSHOT SHOWING CUTTING 318

_HUÉRCAL._

BÁRRIS CUTTING 320

THE CHURCH 322

HEAPS OF COPPER ORE 325

_BADAJOZ._

LAS PALMAS BRIDGE 338

MAPS.

GENERAL MAP OF SPAIN 1

RAILWAY MAP OF SPAIN 267

MINING MAP OF SPAIN 273

MAP SHOWING ALLUVIAL GOLD DISTRICT IN NORTH-WEST SPAIN 301

CONTENTS.

PAGE

INTRODUCTORY 1

MADRID 10

EL ESCORIAL 43

BARCELONA 50

ON THE EAST COAST 73

A PEEP INTO MURCIA 83

TOLEDO AND CÓRDOVA 95

THE CASTILES 108

GRANADA AND THE ALHAMBRA 122

SEVILLE 141

IN SOUTHERN ANDALUSIA 164

THE BASQUE PROVINCES 180

IN NORTHERN SPAIN 195

BULL-FIGHTING 220

THE PICTURE GALLERY, MADRID 241

VIVA EL REY 254

MINING 269

Introductory Chapter.

From the wild gorges and noble crags of the Pyrenees, and the treeless and apparently uninhabited sierras of the North--vast, solitary, and impressive--to the snow-capped hills of the mid-interior, “the palms and temples of the South,” and the unrivalled beauty of the country from Seville to Granada--SPAIN is a land to entrance the traveller. Its great and terribly chequered history is writ large upon the face of the country. Its people have undergone as great, if not greater, vicissitudes than any other people upon the earth, and to-day there does not exist a race more courtly, more sincere, and with more confidence in their country and themselves than the Spanish. As Iberia, Spain was known to the Greeks; the Phœnicians and the Carthaginians have left their traces there: as Hispania, it came beneath the sway of Imperial Rome; it was ravaged by the Franks. For three centuries it was misruled by West Gothic kings: it was conquered, pillaged, and tyrannised over by the Arabs and Moors for nearly 800 years.

Then came the period of Spain’s greatness. When Philip II. ascended the throne in 1556, he became ruler of an immense empire--the first empire on which the sun never set. Portugal was then a portion of Spain by right of conquest; Sicily, a great part of Italy, Holland, and Belgium, practically the whole of the North and the entire Continent of South America, besides the Philippines and other islands in the East, and parts of Africa, were all under Spanish rule. Before he died, in 1598, the power of Spain was at its zenith. At this period the fame and dread of her army was heard and felt through the world; her scientific and artistic eminence was unchallenged. No valour could withstand the charge of the Spanish pikemen; it was the Spanish galleys, under the command of a Spanish prince, that broke the Turks at Lepanto; the palaces of the king were adorned by the glorious genius of Velasquez and Murillo; and all Europe joined in delight over that first great novel of Cervantes.

At the beginning of the 17th century, as the Rev. Wentworth Webster concisely and luminously writes, “the Spanish armies were the first in the world, her navy was the largest: at its close the latter was annihilated, her army was unable, without assistance from Louis XIV., to establish the sovereign of her choice; population had declined from eight to less than six millions, the revenue from 280 to thirty millions; not a single soldier of talent, not a statesman remained to recall the glories of the age of Charles V. and Philip II.; the whole country grovelled in discontent at the foot of unworthy favourites raised to power by court intrigues, and dependent on a foreign prince. A period of resuscitation, under Charles III., was followed by a signal relapse. The influence of the unscrupulous Godoy led to the internal complications which lost Spain her remaining Colonial prestige, and gave the crown of Spain to Joseph Bonaparte. The Peninsular War, the loss of the whole of Spanish Continental America, and the two Carlist wars followed. The war with the United States in 1898 was the preface to the abolition in 1899 of the Spanish Colonial Office as being ‘no longer necessary.’”

In my opinion, the deprivation of her Colonial possessions has been a blessing in disguise to Spain, inasmuch as it will afford her the opportunity of embarking on much-needed schemes of domestic reform. As long as her Colonies imposed an almost intolerable drain on the national exchequer, it was impossible for Spain to attend to matters of urgent importance at home. I regret, however, that this was not accomplished in a different way. When the Spanish Government realised that America had determined to acquire Cuba, it was a great pity that they did not entertain the proposals made for the purchase of that island, instead of rendering it necessary for the Cabinet at Washington to find some excuse for the war of conquest upon which they subsequently embarked.

But in spite of the dramatic epoch-making vicissitudes, and the strongly-contrasted periods of greatness and disruption that Spain has experienced by turns, she has altered as little as any European country. The Spaniard is conservative in the best, as well as the worst sense of the word. His pride is at once his curse and his salvation; his lofty but gentle resignation is immensely attractive; his courtliness never fails him. His confidence in himself is, as has been said, unbounded. In the course of a conversation I had with a Castilian recently, he remarked: “We have been referred to as a decaying nation, a country to be plundered and divided up among the European powers. Before Spain is conquered there will be several million corpses between Madrid and the sea.”

Nobody who has any acquaintance with the Peninsula and its people can listen without impatience to the jeremiads of the superior politicians who predict the decay of Spain. For in spite of the accumulated trials, the disasters, and the strife of centuries, there has lived in the hearts and imaginations of the Spanish people a tradition too great to die. They have preserved under the stress of widely-varying fortune a fortitude and dignity which have prevented the nations, who have passed them in prosperity and power, from regarding them except with respect and admiration. Still, as in the days of Cervantes and Velasquez, the true order of nobility has not been that of formal rank so much as that of the whole nation and the characteristic Spaniard, whether the grandee of the court, or the beggar of the highway, has always known how to wrap his cloak about him with an air that seemed to make misfortunes honourable, and all the material success of the commercial ages a form of vulgarity. Notwithstanding the losses which have stripped them from generation to generation of their conquests, down even to the final blows of the war with America, they have dormant reserves of vitality and vigour only awaiting the touch of genuine leadership, and the inspiration of some hopeful national movement, to make a country containing eighteen millions of inhabitants capable of resuming its place as one of the foremost European nations.

In the past few years there has been a growing instinct in Spain that when things have reached their worst they must begin to mend, and that the disappearance of the last vestiges of external empire will assuredly mark the real beginning of national regeneration. That Spain has been mis-governed, her Governments have been incompetent, and her official parasites insatiable is only too true, and it is scarcely to be wondered at if her people have grown dispirited, pessimistic, and distrustful of everybody except their individual selves. After himself, the Spaniard’s first pride is in his native province. Northern Spain has little interest or confidence in the South, nor the East in the West; and North, East, South, and West were, until recently, supremely indifferent to the course of events in any other quarter of the globe. But this self-concentration is gradually disappearing, the Spaniard is learning to regard himself with an “outside eye,” and the outside world with a broader sympathy. Moreover, he has come to view the resources of his country in a more practical and business-like light, catching, it may be, the reflection of the awakened interest that they are attracting among the neighbouring nations.

For many years now, Spain has formed a great and interesting problem. In a book, published in 1884, we read as follows: “English and German papers are continually proclaiming the fact, and usually painting the situation in rosy hues; statesmen are cherishing ideas of commercial treaties, and relations of closer friendship and wider import; merchants are turning eager and inquiring eyes upon the comparatively untried ground: and speculators are fondly hoping that they have at last discovered, after many lean years, an El Dorado in Spain that shall not prove barren or unfruitful.”

That the reaction was imminent at the time the foregoing was penned cannot be doubted, but the hoped-for movement was checked by the declaration of war by the United States in 1899. The consequences of that terrible and futile struggle fell with paralysing severity upon the whole country, but the story of the war cannot be regarded as a fair test of the military prestige of her people. Nothing was wanting in the warlike impact to throw into relief the condition of the country as contrasted with the temper of her sons. All the chivalry of ancient Spain was fully displayed. Individual courage and bravery were splendidly in evidence. But they availed nothing against the nation that had made haste to take the fullest advantage of modern methods and appliances. The weakness of her fleet, the mismanagement of her military system, and the inefficiency of officialdom in every branch of the Government were laid bare, and it was from this combination of causes, and not from any degeneracy in her soldiers or lack of valour, that Spain owed her defeat.

But by this revelation the Spanish people were awakened to the fact that they were behind the times; that their forms of government were antiquated and inefficient; that all their national institutions cried aloud for re-organisation and reform. Slowly at first, but increasing in momentum as the blessings of peace made themselves felt, the forward movement has proceeded along the entire line of politics, commerce, and public affairs. But if the great work is to progress, as lovers of Spain would desire to see it, the difference that at present exists between the Spaniard, in his individual, his collective, and his official capacity must disappear. This distinction has been emphasised before, but it is so remarkable as to require a note in passing. Self-interest, which is an integral part of human nature, is, or rather was, the most highly-developed, in fact, the abnormal trait of the Spanish official. He was irregular in his methods, and grasping--irregular, because irregularity was connived at; greedy, because he was forced by the paucity of his pay to live by the perquisites of his office. In his collective capacity the Spaniard is mistrustful, strong-headed, and apt to prove unreliable. Yet, individually, the Spaniard is remarkable for the excellence of his personal and moral qualities. Truth and valour are his by heredity, his personal honour is unassailable, his graceful courtesy and air of high breeding make him a delightful companion and a valued friend. He is quick to take offence, but he never, through ignorance or tactlessness, proffers one; he is slow to bestow his confidence, but he never, without cause, withdraws it. You may trust him with your purse, your life, and your reputation. And this wonderful combination of qualities is common alike to the nobles, the townsmen, and the country people. All appear to have inherited the same dignity and grace of manner, and the same sterling moral qualities.

Borrow, who had an intimate knowledge of and admiration for the Spanish people, has declared that, in their social intercourse, no people in the world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature than the Spaniards. Spain still retains all those old world, social, and personal graces with which poetry, painting, and romance have made the untravelled familiar. Grace is not necessarily a virtue, but it is a flower often found on the path that leads to it. And these flowers spring as naturally from racial instincts as do the more prominent traits exhibited in etiquette and statecraft. Spanish character is touched; nay, it is entirely imbued with the “grace of a day that is dead.” The very beggars, whom you encounter in every bye-way, do not lack this native grace which no mere acquirement could exhibit. The receiver of a dole regards it as a tacit acknowledgment that he is worthy of it on principle. But there is a certain charm in Spanish indolence, even in its indigence, which is as much a production of the country as are the soft skies and natural beauties that form its fitting background. The politeness of the peasantry is proverbial, but they are keenly alive to the point of an equal return of civility. Even the brigand was wont to regard himself as a great caballero: and he was often disarmed by a frank and confident air which tacitly acknowledged him on that footing. The idler pursues his vocation as if imbued with a full sense of its sufficiency, and supplements it with a grace beyond the reach of art. Truly this is a nation of nobles, and here is a foundation of national character which has in the past, and will again make the Spanish race one of the greatest powers of the world.

Will Spain revive? The problem is exercising the thoughts of all Europe--by those who do not know better the question is assumed to be also exercising the thoughts of all good Spaniards. As a matter of fact, the Spaniard is above such speculation. He knows his high destiny, and he will fulfil himself. His confidence is supreme, and it is justified. He has driven back every invader, and remains in full possession of one of the noblest countries in the world, nearly the size of France, with a climate which, if he were permitted to re-forest his plateaux, would be as good, though warmer, with the same power, if industry were set free, of producing wine, and oil, and wheat: and with deposits below the soil incomparably greater than those of his successful neighbour; and, perhaps, as rich as any country in the world. Spain, as we were recently reminded by a well-informed writer in the _Spectator_, is a “treasure house of minerals never yet rifled, though from the days of the Phœnicians to those of the Rio Tinto, countless speculators have been breaking into little corners and going away enriched.”

And what is her position to-day? She has 18,000,000 of people, who, if they are not as industrious as either Germans or Englishmen, will, when properly rewarded, work as energetically as any Southern race, and will save their wages. Her children are as brave as any in the world: able, if fairly led, to face any other troops, and with a special faculty at once of endurance and abstinence which scarcely any other troops possess. Seated on the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, with a nearly impenetrable frontier to the North, and only Africa to the South, she occupies, perhaps, the best position both for war and trade possessed by any European State: and will, with a decent administration and a new revenue, become once more as great a maritime Power as she was till Admiral Jervis defeated her fleet off Cape Vincent. She could not, perhaps, rule the Mediterranean; but she could, by alliances, render it impossible for any other Power to rule. Above all, she could suddenly add to her strength, not by conquest, but by wisely-applied pressure and support, the whole force of Portugal--Prim nearly achieved this. Spain might thus assume, with an increasing population, fairly rich and entirely contented, that position of a great Power, which she has never entirely lost. The potentialities of Spain justify Spanish pride.

Madrid

Among the cities of Spain, I write first of Madrid, because I knew it first, and because I know of no city that has been more systematically and unjustifiably maligned. My first visit to Madrid was undertaken on business grounds; but I have returned there many times since, and always with feelings of the keenest pleasure. There is, to me, what the Americans describe as a “homey” air about the city, that may in a measure be accounted for by the good fortune I have had in finding friends there. The friendship of a Spaniard is so genuine, and inspiriting, and whole-hearted, that an Englishman cannot in a moment comprehend it. When a Spaniard extends his friendship to you, your comfort, your interests, and your honour becomes as much a matter for his concern as his own. I first learned to understand this in Madrid. At that time the English were not reported to be held in favour in Spain, and I was advised to be prepared for an unfriendly reception. But I was, on that visit, and on each subsequent visit, agreeably disappointed; and although I have wandered pretty extensively over many parts of the Peninsula, I have

never found it to be other than an advantage to be an Englishman. I have seen the Britisher hustled in Paris, scowled at in Italy, and made the butt of cheap Teutonic wit in Germany, but in Spain he is invariably treated with the kindest consideration. I was told by an English engineer that the explanation of this friendly attitude, on the part of the Spanish people, was to be found in the fact that the country has not yet endured the curse of the average British tourist. It may be so, yet the influence of the English is very marked in the city of Madrid, if not to the full extent that it appears to be at first sight.

An American writer, who “did” Spain in the customary slapdash, get-there-and-get-away-again-fashion of American globetrotters, was not a little chagrined to find in Madrid, English goods, English manners, and English influence predominating over those of any other foreign nation. In Spain, American means South American, and the Yankee is indiscriminately included in the category labelled “Ingleses.” American tram-cars and other Trans-atlantic inventions are thus wrongly credited to the English; and the writer declares that his indignation rose to fever-heat when he entered a place marked “English drinks,” and beheld a genuine American soda-fountain. It must be, I think, due not a little to this unintentional injustice to the land of the great spread-eagle that this same writer finds Madrid ill-favoured and exceedingly noisy, its bread unappetising and heavy, and its butter bad. He cannot bring himself to admire the _Puerta del Sol_, which is “an ordinary square, such as may be found in almost any city of a hundred thousand inhabitants;” and as for the climate, he flippantly dismisses it in a phrase--“nine months’ winter and three months’ hell.” In a more gracious mood he is inclined to think that the surroundings have been too much depreciated by tourists and guide-book makers; while in the rapid increase in the population, together with the healthy appearance of the inhabitants, he discovers an indication that it may be “not quite as bad as its reputation.”

In the foregoing, we have a _precis_ of the generally-accepted opinion of Madrid, and it is one in which I cannot concur. The conscious superiority of the American critic has led him into error, and I strongly deprecate these hasty and ill-formed conclusions upon the climate, the situation, and the city itself, which are responsible for its undeserved reputation. Madrid stands at an elevation of 2,500 English feet above the sea level, in the centre of an open country, and splendid views of the capital are obtained from several miles around. Whatever may be thought as to the wisdom of selecting a capital in the centre of a great plain, and with no water communication with the outposts of the kingdom, one cannot but admire both its position and the magnificence of its buildings. It is a city that, from the first moment of viewing, throughout an entire visit, commands a whole-hearted admiration. Immediately in front of the point of arrival, the Northern Station, there rises up the splendid _Palacio Real_, a huge building forming a square of 470 feet; and which, by reason both of its situation and general appearance, is one of the most magnificent in the world. What is true of the Palace is equally true of the other buildings of the capital, the splendour of which is common to all the public structures. But the natural features are a separate consideration.

The best view of the country surrounding the capital is to be obtained from the _Parque de Madrid_. Whether you like the prospect or not is purely a matter of individual taste. From this eminence, the vast campagna is stretched out to its greatest advantage; and for my own part, I know few that can compare with it. The immensity of the panorama alone entitles it to respect. On every side, save where the Guadarrama fling their rugged peaks skywards, the expanse is bordered only by the far distant horizon. The sense of space that the picture conveys is irresistibly impressive--it is more than a sight; it is an experience. I have seen it when the land has grown lifeless and shabby for want of rain, and when the coming storm has caused the swift clouds to drag their huge shadows across the broad landscape, and when, after the rains, the green pasture is lit by a purple hue, and at night, when the indigo sky is filled with a moon of such brilliancy, and stars of such irridescence, that the whole earth was more brightly illuminated than Piccadilly Circus at midnight.

The climate of Madrid has suffered greatly from the strictures of visitors, who, from one cold breeze, or a single rain storm, consider themselves competent to form, and justified in publishing abroad, their opinions. That the city is subject to sudden changes of temperature is incontestable. Perched as it is on a

commanding table-land so far above the level of the sea, it is swept by every breeze that blows across the wide expanse of plains by which it is surrounded. On the northern side, the horizon is jagged by the snow-capped peaks of the noble Guadarrama; and when the wind sets in from that direction, it comes like an icy blast, bringing, as the guide-book writers aver, chills and acute pneumonia with it. But the climate, though treacherous on this account, is not unhealthy. It is true that pneumonia is unhappily prevalent among the men of Madrid, but the women are singularly free from the malady. There is a reason, of course, for this curious anomaly, and it is to be found in the different fashions in which the men and women protect themselves from the climate. The men, as a class, are abominators of fresh air, and an “eager and a nipping air” is to them a malignant danger to be avoided at any cost. They live in houses, cafes, and clubs heated to the temperature of a second-class New York hotel at mid-winter, without ventilation, and rendered stuffy from over much tobacco smoke. When they venture into the streets they encase themselves in heavy cloaks, throw the “capas,” or velvet-lined capes across their mouths, and stifle behind its oppressive folds. Is it to be wondered at, that, if by any chance the chilled wind should penetrate, or, as more often happens, deprive the muffled pedestrian for the space of a few inspirations of his accustomed protector, his lungs should suffer the inevitable consequences?

But the women face the elements with a sane hardihood that makes the “coddlings” of their men folks seem more inexplicable by comparison. Clad in sensible, thick dresses, supplemented perhaps by a fur cape, they brave the Winter winds with unmuffled throats, and their heads covered only with a light mantilla; while the working women trust almost entirely to the natural protection afforded by their splendid hair. The result is that, while pneumonia is a veritable curse to the men, it is practically unknown among the women.

The present excellent system of watering the streets that has been adopted in Madrid, has greatly moderated the excessive dryness of the atmosphere in Summer; and the increase of vegetation around and in the city is sensibly affecting the climate. I was in Madrid one Autumn in the rainy season. I have had some experience of the tropical rainfalls of mid-Australia, where sandy tracks are converted in a few hours into mighty rivers, and waggon ruts in the bosom of a hill become rushing cataracts; but the rain that I watched for a fortnight from the luxurious shelter of the _Hotel de Paris_ was every bit as business-like and effective. When it was over, the foliage had put on a brighter green, wild flowers had sprung up in profusion, and the lazy, imperturbable Manzanares had become an angry, turbulent river. Madrid is then a sight that it is worth enduring a fortnight of incessant rain to see.

Coming as I did direct to Madrid, and regarding the city with eyes unacquainted with Spanish sights, I was quick to note all the individual characteristics of its architecture, its crowds, and its popular customs; but even without the standards of other Spanish towns by which to form a comparison, I could not fail to be impressed by the cosmopolitan appearance of the capital. Madrid and Barcelona are many years in advance of any other city in Spain; they have not outgrown their national characteristics, but they have adopted with broad-minded opportunism the improvements that intercourse with other nations has made them cognisant of. The casual visitor to Madrid would, perhaps, not regard it as a go-ahead city; and, indeed, I am assured that only those who have a long acquaintance with the Spanish capital can appreciate the advances it has made in the last half-century. It has extended its boundaries, improved its condition,

and increased its notable buildings in an almost marvellous manner. The present _Plaza de Toros_, the magnificent viaduct across the _Calle de Segovia_, the Markets, the Hippodrome, and the _Parque de Madrid_ are all the creation of some twenty-five years. And as Madrid has grown, the _Madrileño_ has advanced. He, and more particularly she, has progressed at the expense of the picturesque. English women are the beneficiaries of French fashions, because they have no style of their own--no peculiar modes or costumes that became them peculiarly as a race. Somebody once said that an English woman was only a French woman badly dressed. It was a libel; but, notwithstanding, she has lent truth to the definition by her anxiety to remedy the defection. The English woman who covets the distinction of being well dressed buys her gowns in Paris; but, in so doing, she improves, she does not alter, her style of costumes. She gains in effectiveness without the sacrifice of individuality. But the Spanish woman, though having something to gain by this Parisian attachment, has something also to lose. She had her “velo”--her coquettish adornment with its rose fastening, and her fan. With these, which suited her Spanish face to perfection, she was characteristic, fascinating, adorable; but French millinery demanded the renunciation of the “velo,” and taught her to forget the witchery of the fan and the grace of the natural rose; and artists, experts, even the ordinary, impressionable Englishman without æsthetic tendencies, may be allowed a regret for the decay of a national means to a beautiful end.

To me, a stroll through the thoroughfares of Madrid is a source of never-ending pleasure. I delight in its wide, clean streets, its gay squares each containing a garden, fountain, and statuettes, its crowded cafes, its promenades, its spectacles, and its unending animation and bustle and crowded life. The street _Alcalá_, which divides Madrid in half, is magnificent in its proportions. The _Prado_, made enchanting by its carriage drives and its avenues, filled with beautiful women, is a panorama of which one cannot have a surfeit; while the people, and the variety of life in the _Puerta del Sol_ is in itself a sight that shall not be witnessed in any other city in Europe.

The _Puerta del Sol_ is the living room of Madrid. It is a mingling of salon, promenade, theatre, academy, garden, a square-of-arms, and a market. The Italian author, Edmondo De Amicis, was so fascinated with its attractions, that during the first few days of his stay in Madrid, he was unable to tear himself away from the spot. The change, the colour, and the contrasts that it presents are admirably summed up in his description of the crowd that from daybreak until one o’clock in the morning throng this famous thoroughfare. Here gather the merchants, the disengaged demagogues, the unemployed clerks, the aged pensioners, and the elegant young men; here they traffic, talk politics, make love, promenade, read the newspapers, hunt down their debtors, seek their friends, prepare demonstrations against the Ministry, and weave the gossip of the city. Upon the side-walks, which are wide enough to allow four carriages to pass abreast, one has to use one’s elbows to force a way. On a single paving-stone you see a civil guard, a match-vendor, a broker, a beggar, and a soldier, all in one group. Crowds of students, servants, generals, officials, peasants, _toreros_, and ladies pass; importunate beggars ask for alms in your ear; cocottes question you with their eyes; courtesans hit your elbow; on every side you see hats lifted, hand-shakings, smiles, pleasant greetings, cries of “Largo” from laden porters, and merchants with their wares hung from the neck; you hear shouts of newspaper sellers, shrieks of water vendors, blasts of the diligence horns, cracking of whips, clanking of sabres, strumming of guitars, and songs of the blind.

In this description, De Amicis does not omit a single one of the various noises and incidents that are to be heard and seen in the _Puerta del Sol_--indeed, the fault of his description is one of commission rather than omission. For instance, I have never yet been elbowed there by a woman, even by accident, who, to the evidence of the sense of sight, was a courtesan. This fact leads me to the reflection that in two respects Madrid is ahead of any European capital that I have visited--it neither flaunts its vices, nor finds excuse for founding a total abstinence movement. I have never seen there an intoxicated man or a representative of what Rudyard Kipling has described as “the oldest profession in the world.” I am not pretending that I believe Madrid to be entirely free from this particular traffic--no city that has American, French, or even English tourists on its visitors’ list could hope for that--but whatever there is, is kept decently out of sight. Any grandmother may inspect the photographs exhibited in the shops without a blush: and the volumes which are exposed to view in the booksellers’ windows do not appeal to the lower passions of the reading public, while as for “the curse of drink,” Spain does not understand the meaning of the phrase. The Spaniard is temperate by temperament, by custom and by heredity. The climate of Spain is antagonistic to strong drink, and the Spanish character revolts against the abuse of it. It would not be too much to say that the Spaniard regards a drunken man with much the same feelings as an Englishman looks upon the Spanish national sport of bull-fighting.

To anyone, other than the American on the make-haste, the _Puerta del Sol_, the subject from which I have digressed, is a feature which appeals irresistibly to the student of humanity. It is the centre where all the great arteries of circulation meet and diverge, where the chief pulse of Madrid life beats hardest, and the high tide of affairs flow and ebb. Here are situated many of those huge, highly-decorated cafes where the Madrilenians congregate to discuss politics, and settle the affairs of the nation over good coffee and the most excellent chocolate; here is the Home Office; and here, too, is the handsome _Hotel de Paris_. Even this imposing and supremely comfortable hotel is not without its detractor. The author of a book of jottings, which I came across recently, wrote of it: “I did not particularly like the place, and the manager and servants of the hotel did nothing to render our visit agreeable.” From my knowledge of the hotel and its management, I feel justified in stigmatising this expression as a gratuitous libel. A more charming welcome, or more graceful attention, or more solid comfort than I have invariably found at the _Hotel de Paris_, in Madrid, is not to be obtained in any hostelry in Europe. It is on these grounds that Sres. Baeza have built for the establishment they direct a reputation equal to that of the Hotel Chatham, in Paris; the Carlton, in London; the Hermitage, in Monte Carlo; and the Hotel Bristol, in Berlin. The opinion I have quoted is that of a traveller who “had heard such miserable accounts of Madrid” that he had “almost abandoned the idea of going there at all;” and who, having been there, can apply to the capital such adjectives as “cheerless,” “gloomy” and “depressing;” but yet he cannot say that he “conceived any violent hatred to the city.” In poll-parrotting the opinion of Theophile Gautier, which was expressed nearly half a century ago, about a Madrid which is as different from the capital of to-day as Madrid of to-day is, thank heaven! from Chicago, this writer, doubtless, considers that he has earned a repute for erudition and original observation surpassed only by that of Gautier himself.

In the _Puerta del Sol_ is the _Imperial_ cafe, an immense hall, comparable only in its size and the gaudiness of its decorations

with the _Fornos_ in the Street _Alcalá_, or the _Colon_, in Barcelona. Long after the theatres and the handsome Opera House is closed, and the hour of midnight is past, the city remains illuminated, the streets are filled with carriages, and the cafes are just as crowded as at the beginning of the evening. If you glance into the _Imperial_ before the doors are open, or, as I was privileged to do, after the doors were closed, you would marvel, as I did, that so vast a room should find customers sufficient to fill it; yet, for the previous eight hours without intermission, each table had possessed its complement of guests, and every chair had been occupied. And, in addition to these mammoth halls, there are innumerable others throughout the city in which a hundred couples could dance easily. I have been told, and I see no reason for doubting the statement, that enormous sums are quickly amassed by the cafe proprietors in Madrid and Barcelona. For the huge _Colon_ cafe in the latter city, the present tenant agreed to rebuild the cafe and pay the sum of £12,000 for ten years occupation only. This he did, and although only half the time of his tenure has expired, he has made a fortune after deducting the cost of building.

Wherever one wanders in this “cheerless” and “depressing” city, one’s eyes are delighted with the constantly changing groups of all ages, colour, and costume; one’s ears are filled with sounds of laughter, and song, and merriment: and one’s senses are galvanised by the vivacity, the gaiety, and the almost feverish overflow of pleasure by which one is surrounded. Stroll, if you will, through the beautiful gardens of the _Plaza Mayor_ (the grand square of Madrid), saunter by the open shops of the _Calle de Toledo_, cross the oval-shaped _Plaza de Oriente_, which lies between the Royal Palace and the Royal Theatre, linger on any of the many handsome bridges, or promenade the beautiful _prados_--the Bank of Spain, one of the finest public buildings in Europe, is situated in the _Salon del Prado_--and you shall never escape the carnival spirit that animates young and old, rich and poor alike.

Rich as Madrid is in obelisks, fountains, and splendid statuary, it has fewer architectural and antiquarian attractions to afford the visitor than such cities as Toledo, Granada, or Córdova; but it has a Royal Picture Gallery which contains one of the finest, if not the very finest collection of old masters in the world. Velasquez is to be seen here, and here only, in all his power. Titian is also represented, as also are Raffælle, Veronese, Murillo, Juan Juanes, Rubens, Tenier, and many others. Rembrandt alone, of all the great artists, is limited to a single specimen; but there is a whole host of comparatively unknown and yet veritable masters, from the sixteenth century Antonio Moro, Coello, and Pantoja de la Cruz, through Pacheco, Ribera (with, after all, his only too life-like representations of what old days and old saints were), Zurbaran and Alonso Cano, down to Valdés Leal; or, the Goya and Lopez of but a century ago. This quiet Museo is a veritable home of art. It is all in such deliciously small compass, all so well ordered, all so good. One has not to walk miles before attaining to favourite spots, or to stare over acres of unresponsive canvas before lighting upon familiar faces, or even to command one’s temper against officialism or jostling. All is contained in a few rooms, and that by exclusion of the bad rather than through poverty. In the neighbouring Academia of San Fernando--the Academy of Fine Arts--in the _Calle Alcalá_, there is, besides a fine collection of minerals, precious stones, and the finest zoological department in Spain, several excellent Murillos, Riberas, and Zurbarans, a characteristic Rubens and some sketches of Goya’s. A visit should also be paid to the _Armeria Real_. Here is housed probably the very finest collection of armour in the world, a

collection that is not only a perfect epitome of the history of the science of attack and defence, but is full likewise of touching record and suggestion.

The Royal Palace of Madrid is admittedly one of the most magnificent in the world; it is, in every sense of the word, a Royal residence. The building is a square of 470 feet by 100 feet high, occupying, it is said, the site of the original outpost alcazar of the Moors. The exterior, despite its noble proportions, does not fulfil the expectations inspired by the distant view; but once it is entered, the princely magnificence of its decorations fills the beholder with feelings of wondering ecstacy. Throughout the palace the appointments are of extreme richness, and remind one of a time when Spain was in the zenith of its glory. All the countries of Europe have been laid under tribute for the art treasures that crowd every corner. In one apartment there is a collection of timepieces, some of which are worth almost their weight in gold, and they were all collected by one monarch; while another sovereign devoted much time to completing a collection of china which is one of the proudest possessions of the palace. Other kings have covered the walls with the priceless works of old masters, and the result is a gallery of paintings of various schools which is one of the wonders of Europe. But undoubtedly the finest apartment in the palace is the throne room, which glows with rich colouring and scintillates with a lavish display of precious metals. The superb throne, made for the husband of Mary of England, is entirely of silver; the huge lions that mount guard on each side being of the same metal. Marbles of almost every colour of the rainbow are to be seen everywhere; and the furniture, made of the rarest of inlaid woods, delights the eye with its graceful form. The whole apartment is given a finished and warm appearance by the costly hangings of crimson velvet. The ball room of the palace is the largest in Europe. All the arts and manufactures seem to have contributed to its splendour.